Up High
by JackOwens1860
Summary: Bruce's thoughts on both the murder investigation of Dick's parents and of Dick's adjustment to life in the manor


**Up High**

I am tired, perhaps even exhausted by recent exertions. Investigations into the Haley Circus double-homicide are proving to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated. From what the boy has disclosed, the man I should scrutinize further is Tony Zucco and his entire operation as a matter of course. Zucco is in the protection racket and quite proficient at it too. However, since that night in the circus tent, he has gone underground; apparently he has learned of the Batman's interest in him. It has been shown to be a smart move on his part. It seems no matter how many thugs and degenerates I shake down and no matter how many of his associates I lean on, I still cannot trace his whereabouts. I have been at it for almost a week without reprieve. I am despondent.

Alfred has suggested – rather strongly for him – that I make a greater effort to spend time with Dick. From what the old man tells me, the boy is despondent too. It is for this reason that I find myself returning home from business early. I feel lethargic as I search the house for Dick's presence. He is not in the East Wing, his room or any of the usual places Alfred has recommended I investigate. Eventually, by sheer process of elimination, I enter the gymnasium in the West Wing. The boy is working on the gymnastics equipment, although from my viewpoint on the floor, it appears more like play than work.

He is wearing his circus costume, a somewhat garish explosion of red and green with glitter thrown in. As he moves, I can see, even from this distance (some thirty or forty feet), his entire body ripple beneath his clothes. I have seen many child gymnast prodigies in my time as a philanthropist and supporter of sport programs, but Dick is different. His muscles are not unlike my own, forged out of endless practice and tireless dedication, but also not designed for a single purpose. My body is built to produce strength, speed, skill, flexibility, endurance and sometimes multiple elements at once. It is, in short, functional to its highest possible degree. Watching the boy swing his body effortlessly from the uneven bars to the rings by way of two somersaults and then force himself onto the rafters of the gymnasium itself, is an amazing display of talent. It cannot be taught as such movements are instinctive. His spatial awareness and fluidity of motion exceed my own by some way. I am impressed.

Several minutes pass before Dick is aware of me. Following a series of original movements that seem a mesh of acrobatic and gymnastic disciplines, the boy's eyes meet mine from his handstand atop the uneven bars. He has landed in front of me in seconds, a back flip and cartwheel speeding his progress. Although beads of sweat cover his entire body and his costume is visibly damp, Dick's breathing is normal. In spite of what appears an extreme exertion of the human body, the boy is not tired by his efforts. His stamina is remarkable to say the least. He speaks first.

"Have you been watching long?"

"I couldn't tear myself away. That was truly phenomenal to witness."

The boy smiles at me, a little flushed with embarrassment. I am curious as to why. "Are you alright Dick? You look a little red." Hearing this makes him tense slightly as if suddenly aware of how exposed he is. I guess I still make the boy nervous. He manages a reply regardless.

"I'm not used to being this close to an audience. Usually they're further away and I'm not so..."

"Nervous?" I offer. Dick nods.

"Plus, it's always harder to perform in front of other gymnasts."

So, the boy has noticed the worn condition of the apparatus. I am casual. "I can assure you, Dick, I'm not on your level so I'm not at liberty to criticise you." He shrugs his shoulders. Again his muscles ripple beneath his skin.

"I don't know. I don't have any formal training in gymnastics. I bet you can do things I can't." I smile at his unwarranted modesty. It is refreshing to meet such a prospect lacking an unhealthy ego.

"Perhaps. I see you've found your way back into costume." My remark prompts Dick to press a hand against his chest and pull the material. He looks away.

"Yeah, uhm...Alfie managed to wash the blood out for me." My heart suffers a sharp pain after the boy's sad reply. His parents bled on him as he cradled them. He will never forget such a moment. It will haunt him. As it did me. He looks back into my eyes. "I hope you don't mind. I know you bought me all that new workout gear yesterday and I'm really grateful. I just feel more comfortable in this."

I reach forward and thumb the material of his singlet. Lycra. Interesting choice. "Not at all. It's very nice." I say. He smiles again. He has a wonderful smile. It is something trivial, I admit, but I do enjoy seeing it on his face.

"My mom made it for me when I was eight. She made all our costumes you know; she was real talented like that. At first, I didn't like it and the glitter seemed way too much. It's sort of grown on me the last few years. I used to feel kinda girly wearing it. Silly right?" When he gets going, the boy speaks a lot. I find myself growing fond of that particular trait as well.

"I am certain there are worse things to wear. Are you coming to dinner shortly?"

Dick raises an eyebrow and looks slightly puzzled by what I have just asked. "Are YOU coming to dinner shortly?" He inquires. I understand his scepticism; he has been here almost three weeks and I have attended exactly two meals with him. Alfred says he often asks after me. Apparently, for whatever reason, my presence brightens the boy's mood. I will therefore redouble my efforts. My hand falls on his shoulder and he seems to study it. Dick's skin is hot and wet to the touch, a combination I have not experienced often. From his reaction to my touching him, the boy is not familiar with my hand's characteristics either. I should try to make physical contact more often. He looks at me again.

"I will be there, I promise." Dick's first reaction is to nod in a manner that suggests he is less than convinced by my assurances. For a twelve-year-old, the boy is rather cynical. He then offers me a grateful smile.

"Thanks...Bruce." He still finds addressing me by my first name difficult. I do not take offence; this transition is hard for both of us to adjust to. At this juncture I would expect him to wander off and shower for dinner. His decision to abruptly latch himself round my waist catches me by surprise and I noticeably stiffen. I hear him giggle at my reaction. "Surprise." Dick says before adding, "Thank you for trying. It helps, really." I let my body relax and embrace him properly.

"We'll get through this, Dick. Everything will be okay."

"Yeah, of course it will."

We let one another go. There is a silence. He nods at me in what can only be approval. "I'm going to go shower. See you in ten." And with that, he leaves the gymnasium and me to my thoughts. My sympathies for this boy are transforming into genuine affections. I think I would really like it if he stayed here. And I think I would like it even more if I were able to bring his parents' killers to justice soon, for his sake as well as my own. I would hate him to follow me down the dark paths I have spent my entire adult life walking. I don't want vengeance to become his way of life. I don't want Batman to become his friend. I want us to just be Bruce and Dick and leave my other self out of the relationship. That is what I want. Whether such wishes and hopes will happen is unlikely, but we will see...

We will try...


End file.
